Stupid Screwed Up Friendship
by Hobbit985
Summary: Just how screwed up is the friendship that House and Wilson share? This is a series of one shots, lookig into the relationship and seeing just how much the pair care for each other. First House Fic, but I hope it's enjoyable. Rated to be safe.
1. Broken Boiler

Greg House groaned as someone knocked on his door. He was halfway through watching a documentary about Monster Trucks and really didn't want to have to get up. But the knocking persisted and he knew exactly who was on the other side of the door.

"I know you've still got a key and I'm not getting up!" House called out, popping a Vicodin pill out of his bottle and swallowing it.

The door creaked open and House heard (he refused to look away from the T.V.) James Wilson entered and shut it quickly behind him, making a small 'cold' noise as he did so.

"Can I stay here tonight?" He asked taking off his scarf and coat and hanging them up, dumping the small bag he was carrying at the bottom of the rack.

"Why?" House asked frowning slightly. "You've got a flat of your own."

"Boiler's bust," Wilson shrugged, standing pointedly by the sofa and waiting until House moved his legs and propped them up on the coffee table. "And after almost killing me with those amphetamines I think you owe me."

"I didn't 'almost kill you'," House scoffed, glancing at his friend finally. "But if you'd rather kip on my couch than in your flat, be my guest. If you start cutting your toenails at eight in the morning though I will not be held responsible for where I shove this."

He waved his cane threateningly in front of Wilson's face. Wilson batted the cane out of the way.

"Fine," he said. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," House shrugged. "You'll only regret it later."

Wilson couldn't help but smile at that and he knew House was smiling slightly too.

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House groaned and turned over in his bed instantly wishing he hadn't. His leg was screaming in pain and as he reached over to his bedside table for his Vicodin bottle he was suddenly aware of the time. It was five in the morning. Five… in the am.

House propped himself up on his elbow. He was awake at five am. He shivered and suddenly realised the reason for this rude awakening. No wonder his leg was so painful, he was freezing his ass off! The duvet he had fallen asleep under was apparently missing.

Growling something very rude under his breath House grabbed his cane and limped into the living room, to find a huddled mass shivering under _his_ duvet.

"I am awake at five in the morning," House poked the bundle with his cane. "Do you know why I'm awake at five in the morning?"

He wandered round to the front of the couch and saw, just visible between the folds of the fabric, a pair of very blue lips.

"Your boiler's gone too," the lips replied, teeth chattering. "I was cold."

"And now so am I!" House snapped. "There was no reason for us to both be cold!"

Wilson pulled the duvet far enough down for his head to stick out. His hair stuck up comically in all directions.

"Would you have thanked me if I'd climbed into your bed?" He asked.

"No, so now I'm climbing into yours," House replied, tapping his friend's leg with his cane. "Budge."

Wilson sighed and opened up half the duvet. House grabbed his phone and sat down next to Wilson, pulling the duvet around him and shivering. He began dialling and held the phone to his ear.

"Hi, yeah, I'm having problems with my boiler," House said into the phone, trying to stop his teeth chattering too loudly. "Any chance you can have some one round here in the next five minutes? That's great. Thanks."

"They're not coming are they?" Wilson asked as House chucked the phone back on the coffee table.

"They'll be at least five hours," House replied as he leant back, rubbing his thigh with his hand.

"Might as well make the most of it," Wilson smiled slightly producing the T.V remote and turning on Blackadder. "You know, you might wanna sit closer. We're never gonna get warm else."

"Jimmy unless you want me sat in your pants, I'm not moving closer," House growled through clenched teeth.

"There's two inches of couch between us!" Wilson shook his head. "Fine. Whatever."

House knew he'd regret this later, but he moved closer, trying to ignore the fact that it was Wilson's warm body pressed up against his.

"Do you mind?" House asked suddenly looking at Wilson wide eyed. "There's only so close I'm coming!"

"That's not me House," Wilson deadpanned knowing his friend was trying to trap him into some kind of sexual harassment.

House huffed then. It was too cold to get a good reaction out of Wilson and it was too cold for him to try harder. They remained sat bathed in the dim glow coming from the T.V.

"This never leaves the apartment," House warned after a while.

"Whatever you say," Wilson hastily agreed.


	2. Bad Day

_It's not what people say, it's what they do._

_Yes, he cares about me._

Wilson wandered through the hospital corridors towards his office. It had been a log hard day. He'd lost a patient, had to tell three people they were dying and exactly how long they had left, and then he'd almost been beaten up by a very large woman during her breast examination. It had been, as House would put it, 'a crappy day of normality'.

Sighing Wilson opened his office door and frowned slightly when he found a brown box in the middle of his desk. Looking around the corridors he saw no one who looked like they might be a secret admirer. He shrugged to himself, assuming it was paperwork, though they never usually delivered it to his office like this.

Sitting in his chair behind his desk, he pulled the box towards him and opened it up, slightly surprised by its contents. It was full of all his favourite Chinese dishes from the shop down the road. Judging by their warmth they hadn't long been dropped off either.

Pulling them out, he frowned. There was enough here for two. Then, right at the bottom of the box, he caught sight of a scrap of paper. Picking it up and unfolding it, Wilson read:

_I'm crap at cooking unlike you, so all I can offer is Chinese. I know how crap your day has been and you probably don't want to listen to me brag about my latest case and whatever, but I bought two lots of food so tough. By the way you should probably look up._

Wilson frowned slightly and read the last bit again. Look up? Unable not to he glanced up and caught sight of House stood at the balcony door, cane in hand. He shot Wilson a look that said 'can I come in'. Wilson nodded back and House pushed the door open, plopping himself down on the chair the other side of Wilson's desk.

"Saw you wandering round the hospital like a lost puppy and guessed you weren't having the best day," House said, pulling one of the Chinese cartons towards him.

"You could say that," Wilson agreed, grabbing another. "It never gets any easier."

"Your problem is, you care too much," House mumbled, his mouth full.

Wilson pulled a face at him, shaking his head.

"Yes, I care, I'm pathetic, I don't need reminding," He lay back in his chair, too tired and drained to argue.

"You didn't see me blubbing last time I lost a patient," House pointed out, waving his chopsticks menacingly in Wilson's direction.

"Is this your idea of comfort?" Wilson asked sadly. "'Cause it's not working."

"No this is me trying to get you to snap out of it," House snapped. "You're still alive and well, all your friends and family are still alive and well, it's only your patients dying and in your line of work you should be used to it by now."

Wilson glared at House.

"You know the rest of us humans actually show some compassion towards each other," he growled back.

"No, you pretend to care because you'd want others to pretend if you were in their shoes," House replied. "But the only people who truly care, are those who do something that for you that you don't notice because it's so subtle."

Wilson paused and glanced at the food House had bought him. He wasn't normally one for showing any kind of affection so it was little things like this that reminded Wilson they were best friends.

"Giving you a shoulder to cry on just makes you want to mourn, don't offer it and you have to move on," House continued a little more softly. "If you mourned every patient you lost, you wouldn't be the fantastic doctor you are."

Wilson smiled slightly. Now this really wasn't House. If one of the kids turned up looking for him, House would turn back into his usual maverick egotistical self. Speaking of the kids…

"Where are Cameron, Foreman and Chase?" Wilson asked.

"Finishing paperwork," House said shrugging. "I wanted the kids out of the way for a bit. Otherwise the only time we'd talk is during our marriage counselling sessions."

"Ha ha," Wilson rolled his eyes. "What did Cuddy say when you told her what was up with the patient?"

"Almost wet herself," House grinned. "Especially when I mentioned how much nicer her breasts were."

"Ahh so that's why you went to visit this one!" Wilson said, realisation dawning.

"Aww, jealous Jimmy?" House asked. "Don't worry, she wasn't as cute as you."

Wilson almost chocked on his Chinese as he laughed.

"Better not let Cameron here you say that," He chuckled.

"She already knows," House laughed.

They lapsed into silence as they finished off the Chinese. It was nice, moments like these, when House would be close to a normal human being, emotions exposed and actually friendly towards someone else.

In fact, it was tiny moments like this, that Wilson hardly noticed, that made his day seem brighter. Maybe House wasn't that bad after all.

"You know, I've hardly kept the smile of my face all day when I've seen you," House noted.

"Oh yeah?" Wilson frowned slightly.

"Your flies have been open the whole time," House laughed as Wilson looked down to find that his flies weren't open. See that was what House did. He started to sound like he might actually be nice for once and then he'd turn the situation to humiliate you. Something about that made Wilson like him even more.


	3. Surprises, Good And Bad

_You lied to a friend to save a stranger; you don't think that's screwed up?_

You've never lied to me?

I NEVER lie.

House had everything planned. All he had to do now was corner Wilson and convince him to come back to House's apartment. That shouldn't be too difficult; after all, they had dinner together quite often.

Of course House hadn't considered that maybe Wilson wouldn't be in the mood. That maybe he would have forgotten all about himself and would be concentrating on his cancer patients a little too much.

House knocked on his friend's door, opening it and stepping into Wilson's office. The Oncologist was sat behind his desk, his hand running through his hair frustratedly as he reviewed a few files.

"Hey," House said.

"Hey," Wilson replied not looking up.

"Fancy coming back to my place?" House asked trying to sound off hand.

"I can't," Wilson shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. "I've got to sort these files out, and hope that Lucy makes it through the night, and then I've got to book the chemo for Daniel, reassure his parents that we've caught the cancer early and-"

"You know, if it weren't for the fact that you'd die without sleep, you wouldn't leave this place," House smiled bemused, shaking his head slightly. "You care far too much. You need to learn to switch off. They are just patients, and they'll still be here tomorrow."

Wilson shot House a withering look.

"Lucy might not," he said.

"That's not your problem, she'll have family and friends and you staying here is not going to guarantee that she lives is it?" House pointed out gently.

"She went to three doctors, all of whom couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, it was only when she was referred to you that you discovered what it was and handed her to me," Wilson sighed. "She lives in a care home, she doesn't have any friends and we didn't catch the cancer in time. It isn't a case of ensuring she lives, it's trying to make her passing an easy one. She can't die on her own."

"Then let Cameron sit with her," House shrugged. "They've made friends already. She's there now. But _you_ need to come with me."

Wilson looked up at House and reluctantly agreed. It was another hour before they finally left the hospital because Wilson had to make sure Cameron was completely fine about staying with Lucy and he had to say goodbye to Lucy himself. Just in case.

House was pretty sure that Wilson had forgotten what day it was. Still, that'd make the surprise even better.

After parking up, the pair of them made their way up the steps to House's apartment. As he opened the door and let Wilson in, a collected shout of 'SURPRISE' hit the pair of them.

Wilson blinked a few times like a deer caught in headlights before he grinned, turning to House.

"Did you do this?" He asked.

House just shrugged.

"Happy Birthday," he said as he limped in after his friend.

House had planned the whole thing. Made a few phone calls and managed to get everyone to agree to setting up a party in his apartment for Wilson's birthday. The poor man deserved a happy one.

The guests were mostly people form the hospital, Chase, Foreman and Cuddy were there (Cameron had sent a present and card along with House), there were a couple of remission patients, a few of Wilson's old mates from university, and some of the old crowd House and Wilson used to hang out with when Wilson was with his first wife and House was with Stacy.

All in all, it was a good turn out and for once Wilson actually had fun. The kind of 'I'm-not-thinking-about-all-the-dying-kids' fun that he rarely enjoyed these days.

Half way through the party Wilson's mobile went off. The able bodied were playing a very interesting game of 'Twister' so House was the one who answered.

"Hello?" He asked after he'd fished the phone out of Wilson's pocket without pulling the man off the 'Twister' board.

"It's Cameron… is that House?"

"Yeah, Wilson's… uhh…" He smiled as he caught sight of the precarious position Wilson was in. "Wilson's busy. Something up?"

"I just thought he ought to know that Lucy died."

"Oh…" House's smiled slipped. "Right… well…"

He turned away from the knot of people and spoke quietly into the mobile, telling Cameron to sort things out herself and that he'd pass the message on.

"Who was it?" Wilson asked, appearing behind House, evidently having fallen and lost the game.

"It was Cameron, just ringing to say Happy Birthday," House handed the phone back. "But she said she'd tell you in person since you were in the middle of all those people."

Wilson narrowed his eyes slightly as though he could see right through House's lie, but he didn't say anything.

Several hours and a lot of beer later, House and Wilson were the only people that remained. Everyone else had drifted home and now the only noise was the sound of one of the dumbass DIY shows on the T.V.

House had been monitoring Wilson carefully. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to not be affected by the blow of losing a patient.

"Here," House handed him another can of beer but Wilson put it down.

"I can't drink anymore," he said. "I'm gonna have a hangover as it is."

House nodded and sighed.

"I've got something to tell you," he said finally.

Wilson looked at him questioningly and in that moment, House realised he hadn't seen the Oncologist so relaxed in years. In fact House was pretty sure that Wilson had _never_ been that relaxed. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to let him have a few more carefree hours.

"Happy Birthday."


	4. Showing Emotions

_Their son is deathly ill, I know it's terrible, but the fact is if I don't keep busy with trivial things like this I'm afraid I might start to cry.  
_

In the weeks following his infarction House pushed Stacy away and made himself as miserable as possible, only allowing Wilson to come anywhere near him emotionally. As the years passed House continued to keep people away and concentrate on his work, solving as many zebra illnesses as he could.

He hired prostitutes to keep him distracted, though sometimes he didn't need anyone else to distract himself. He did all he could to keep his mind occupied not allowing his thoughts to drift.

When he allowed Stacy back into his life and then pushed her out for a second time House found it harder and harder to stop painful thoughts entering his mind and the increased agony caused by his leg didn't help.

Wilson noticed this and tried talking to House several times, but he was simply knocked back, whacked in the leg and shut out. So in the end the Oncologist decided to confront his friend at his flat, where no one else would have to witness it if House opened up.

He knocked and waited patiently hoping that House would actually let him in. Wilson knew that House must have looked through the spy hole because when he opened the door his eyes were red, his face streaked and it was quite obvious that he had been and still was crying.

Wilson stepped in and shut the door after himself, watching House limp back to the sofa and sit down gingerly, sniffing and hissing in pain as he did so.

Wilson didn't say anything at first, he just took off his coat and hat and sat down next to House gazing vaguely at the T.V. screen but not really watching it.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked finally.

House didn't answer at first, but Wilson knew he'd heard. The way his hand was squeezing his thigh so hard told him that House was probably in too much pair to answer straight away.

"I've got no kids, my marriage collapsed and I'm going to be in pain for the rest of my life," House said slowly in a voice barely more than a whisper. The last time Wilson heard him talk like that was just before he was put into a chemically induced coma. "I've only got two things that work for me. My job and this stupid screwed up friendship and at the rate I'm going, I'm gonna lose both of them too."

Wilson smiled as House mimicked the words he'd used only last year after House had got his best friend sacked from the board because he wouldn't give a speech.

"Well you're not going to lose me," Wilson promised quietly. "And I'm sure you won't lose your job. You've lasted twelve years."

House glanced at Wilson.

"It doesn't bother you that our friendship is so screwed up?" He asked.

"Our friendship is an ethical responsibility," Wilson joked. "You can't just abandon responsibility, and I don't want to."

"You realize I'm probably going to drive you insane one day," House pointed out unable to smile yet due to the pain.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Wilson replied.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Wilson finally spoke again.

"You got your old kit out again didn't you?" He said, glancing at House.

"Yeah," he nodded, pulling at sleeves subconsciously.

"Did it help?"

"Not as much as you did," House said, finally managing a small smile. He picked up the T.V. remote and flicked through the listings. "I'll let you pick what we watch if you make dinner."

Wilson smiled slightly. House never admitted he needed help, he always made it seem like he was manipulating you to do his biding. But Wilson knew that wasn't true in this case. It wasn't the fact that he was allowed to see how much pain House was suffering, it wasn't the fact that he needed Wilson so much that he'd asked him to make dinner and would probably end up staying the night, it was the fact that on his way to the kitchen, House grabbed Wilson's wrist and stopped him.

"Thank you," he whispered.


	5. Reasons

_Ok then, emergency room guy it is._

Wait, how was that so easy?

You know why.  


Wilson did almost anything House asked him too. He wrote prescriptions, ran tests, took patients, dealt with Cuddy, spoke to the lackey's, anything House needed doing, Wilson would be at his beck and call. Unless there was good reason not to.

Occasionally Wilson had to put his foot down. Tell House no, and then House would push and push and end up either doing something stupid or end up having an argument with his best friend.

A lot of the patients could see that this wasn't good for either of them. If Wilson continued to do so much for House then House would become dependant and forget how much he valued his friend.

But Wilson knew differently. There were little things that the objective patient never saw. Little things no one ever saw. The offers of dinner, being invited round the watch T.V, being asked to spend Christmas together, they were all small things, but they were enough.

When House did something for Wilson, Wilson didn't have to ask. He didn't have to beg or barter or trade. House did them, because Wilson was his friend and House knew that if he didn't pay Wilson back, then he'd lose the best friend he'd ever had.

Sometimes having things done without even having to ask, is enough payback for all the favors Wilson did.


End file.
